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prose poetry

limps com parar o ritmo doloroso
são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras
quando as horas do dia forem numeradas
há uma hora do descanso calmo
a escuridão
tem por muito tempo a luz solar do verão brilhada
meu amor verdadeiro de seu descanso levantou-se
duas fileiras dos repolhos
no porto de york novo
seja paciente, vida, quando o amor está na porta
paredes e enorme elevados
sobre o rio, no monte
o ar está cheio do alvorecer e da mola

 



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